Amaranthine
by Novoux
Summary: Shizuo likes to surprise Izaya in the mornings when he's not had enough coffee for this kind of thing. Shizaya & Izuo


Waking up in the morning sounds tiring. By the emptiness of the bed and the clean sheets next to him he has to hold in another melodramatic sigh, 'cause he's not about to sound like some sappy idiot or whatever. Being on leave from work is already enough to sap the energy from him, along with the bandages neatly tied from chest to his long legs covering gashes almost too big to hold shut with butterfly bandages. Izaya makes the mistake of jokingly asking if he should call Shinra and he's lucky that Shizuo just pins him down to the bed (that hurts, he's really got to notice these things or Izaya will) and kisses the stupid out of him.

Rubbing at his eyes with one bandaged hand, Shizuo recalls that being on the receiving end of numerous makeshift weapons from baseball bats with nails to metal pipes (one of the poor bastards had a taser, for fuck's sake) happen to hurt more the next day. Even if they break against his skin and shatter in his hands—picking out splinters is _never_ fun with Izaya's commentary—they still leave bruises and scrapes that turn into large cuts from too many idiots coming at him at once.

Well, maybe they learned something. If they're still breathing, he doesn't really care.

The shower is just down the hallway. So close. But seeing as his legs are protesting and his stomach is clenching down on itself tightly, hissing swears is as close as he's going to come to getting out of bed anytime soon. Izaya's not here to watch him with this motherly look of raising hell upon the idiots Shizuo's already beaten up, which Shizuo _totally_ plans on teasing him for and still does. The look in Izaya's eyes when he came home last night tells him more than enough on what he wants to do.

Huh, home. It feels weird when he echoes it in a breath against his tongue, light and dry. But this shabby apartment has been somewhat of a place to call somewhere to live. But not really home-y, mainly because he's not that sappy and if he is then it's Izaya's fault, one way or another.

Though having Izaya here for the past two years in and out have warped his mind to become something love-drugged and ridiculously stupid. Flea can deny it all he wants, Shizuo knows exactly what Izaya does to him. All the effects Izaya claims not to suffer from are all lies, which he's really bad at whenever he's lying to his boyfriend.

Pushing himself up takes both hands and swearing loudly, slamming his foot against the ground and hearing the floorboards creak below cheap carpet. The neighbors might complain but he doesn't really care, not when pain flares up his spine and _fuck_ he feels like he's going to explode if he keeps this shit up. It'll be better by tomorrow or whenever he finds the painkillers, having quite the stash and enough bandages to fill his bathroom cabinets with in his makeshift hospital. No Shinra needed—that's the best part.

Sooner or later, somehow, he gets up to holding himself up with the wall and one arm, leaning heavily to the right while he trudges to his destination of the bathroom. Wherever Izaya is he better not walk in now, not when Shizuo could kill someone just for thinking of looking at him right about now. That raised eyebrow of his and the little smirk on his face is far more than Shizuo's tolerance for bullshit can handle right now. Showering is gonna be hard with taking off all these bandages and just thinking of bending makes his throat tight with anticipation.

So maybe showering isn't a good idea. As soon as he's at the door frame he's stopped once again, contemplating whether or not he should shower by himself and face the burn of heat and stretching to take bandages off or the humiliation and teasing from Izaya helping him. It _does_ mean getting to see Izaya naked, which is never a bad thing. His pride however disagrees.

Okay, there's got to be a way to stop the pain throbbing in every fucking inch of broken skin and fuck—just all over. He feels worse than being hit by a semi-truck and set on fire from the pain that throbs up to his temples, grinding into a headache and making this day miserable before the sun is completely up. One glance to the sofa means it's empty and up for his taking. The shitty thing from before is gone and Shizuo learns that complaining about uncomfortable cushions means finding a _loveseat_ sitting in his living room and no Izaya for the next two weeks. He's really got to be careful whenever that bastard is around.

(It may have to do more with Izaya bitching about how he didn't fit on the old couch, but disappearing for two weeks is just unacceptable.)

And the walk over—stumbling over his feet, dizzy and tired and feeling the protest of his wounds—is more painful than it should be. Collapsing on the damn thing is much nicer with how soft it is, an off-white color to match the cheap carpet that Izaya makes fun of whenever he comes over. Seeing how often he does, it shouldn't be a problem.

 _He_ still is.

Cushions against his back and even if it's too small to fit his feet completely he can still tuck himself into a comfortable position, minimal pain necessary but it still hurts either way when he does move. Izaya will probably have his head if he sees Shizuo moving around because after the ear-splitting lecture from yesterday on why he can't apparently get hurt and leave the bastards in one piece, it'll only tick him off. Which is fine in Shizuo's book, so long as he gets to rest on this comfortable thing and never admit that it feels nicer than his bed. The only thing that compares is Izaya, who fits against him so easily it's kind of scary how eagerly he'd keep Izaya against him so long as his boyfriend just holds him.

Ugh. Not the sappy things again.

The television remote is right in front of him and he's lazy enough to stare at it, knowing fully well that he can just shift and grab it, but he'd rather not. As long as the aching throbbing itching and pounding against his bones all over settles into a quieter complaint, he's not about to move anytime soon. It's a good thing he has a pillow too because he's already feeling tired again, more than just the fatigue of coming home with the news that he's been put on medical leave once again and Izaya livid as hell.

And he can almost feel better, relaxing in the plush comfort of one of Izaya's rare gifts, already worn with months of usage and having Izaya recline against him isn't a bad thing at all. But Izaya isn't here, probably out somewhere buying coffee or breakfast or plotting murder. A typical day off for him when he decides to actually do something other than sit on his computer all day.

Shizuo slips a hand through his hair, puffing a sigh from his lips and closing his eyes again. No Izaya means no lecturing or hearing lilting taunts, but it also means no surprise kisses that turn heated or the cool metal of when Shizuo's hand is holding his. This is the only place that affection comes freely and he's greedy enough to want more and more, as much as Izaya will give to him because Izaya knows exactly of how addictive he is. It only makes the craving much worse for Shizuo.

Time passing after his eyes close, he doesn't hear the first scrapes of a key against a door lock nor the rustle of a paper bag. Shizuo's in a state of not quite asleep but too tired to move, breaths slowing even as the door clicks open and he should be paying attention. Or not, because the only idiot who's daring enough to break inside his apartment isn't an idiot at all and has a key because this is practically his home since his fancy apartment is just too big for Shizuo's liking. The small space here is convenient, even if it's not that appealing to Izaya's expensive tastes.

Shoes tap against the floor quietly, the floorboards under the carpet creaking softly as feet step up and into the room without an announcement. The paper bag crinkling is at the back of Shizuo's mind when he registers it vaguely, too sleepy to care and his nose picks up the scent of roasted coffee which should tell him something. Fatigue keeps him drowsy, thinking of Izaya because he's never _not_ and if his boyfriend isn't in front of him then he's in his head.

"Shizu-chan," Izaya calls in a quieter hum than his normal chirp, bag crinkling when it hits the coffee table (Shizuo has never had a coffee table and Izaya fixed that quickly) and the tap of a cup against the table means Izaya's closer than he sounds. "What are you doing out here? Your boss told you bed rest, ne?" Of course he's going to rub that in and dance over Shizuo's grave. It's just how the pest is; too persistent for his own good.

Shizuo doesn't crack an eye, focusing on the blank darkness behind his eyelids and drowsily reaches out a hand, catching on what he thinks is the silky smooth feel of Izaya's pajama pants. Hard to tell, because fingers move over his before he can think clearly and all of a sudden the sofa has an extra weight near his stomach and dips just enough to bring a cringing sting to his nerves.

"Ah, what am I saying?" Izaya hums to himself, fingers laced in Shizuo's because they belong there and they have for the longest time. It's hard to believe how quickly these two years have passed, with an anniversary that's either today or tomorrow and Shizuo is really bad with dates when he's sleep-deprived. "Shizu-chan doesn't listen to a word I say, there's no point in wasting my time on a snoring monster." And then Izaya's fingers leave his, a couple seconds going by and by the time they return they're much warmer and the smell of coffee is stronger than before.

"Couldn't figure that out yesterday, flea?" Shizuo grumbles, cracking an eye because Izaya's watching him and he can feel that look straight into him. If it were possible, Shizuo may have burns from where Izaya watches him. "Thought you'd never shut up after that."

"So rude..." Izaya snorts, pretending to purse his lips into a pout and Shizuo supposes that it may be fair his punishment is a kiss that tastes like black coffee—disgustingly bitter. "And I thought Shizu-chan could take on a couple of kids, but looks like _you_ were wrong." Bullshit—Izaya's lips cling to his in a slow tender sort of thing that's just lips and wet and warm but it's no less than anything else.

Shizuo feels a tap on his fingers shortly before Izaya releases them, watching lazily with a slow blink as Izaya pulls a drink from the paper bag set across from them. It's much warmer than Izaya's hand and smells much nicer than that bitter crap he drinks, which means he must have done something right to earn a hot chocolate from the stingiest boyfriend in the world.

Well, maybe not that. Not even comparatively close when he's the one who stayed over, wrapping him up in enough bandages to make the nurse at the nearby clinic blush. Izaya's never liked her anyway, something about Shizuo being oblivious and that's not true just because she's nice.

As he takes a sip he forces his eyes open, slow blinks forcing back a yawn, catching on Izaya sipping on his regular morning coffee with the scent of something sweet wafting from the bag. With Shizuo's luck it could be a cookie from the same cafe Izaya has a penchant for, especially one of those chocolate ones that he really likes. But then there's also the same argument that Izaya should be mad at him like he was last night, refusing to kiss him and kept narrowing his eyes whenever Shizuo tugged at his bandages. Okay, so not mad, but frustrated to say the least.

"I'm always wrong according to you." Shizuo swallows another mouthful of sugary sweet hot chocolate, rich and sweet over his tongue and just too perfect for this awful morning. "But you're jus' afraid of admitting that you whine over stupid things." Izaya's more prone to it, but it's adorable to see him all worked up because it's hard to deny the choked-up kind of feeling that comes from when Izaya doesn't let him go, even when he bandages him up. It's hard to admit that Shizuo feels every tensed pull of bandages and fingers in his, no matter the blood that gets on Izaya's clothes.

"Mmh," Izaya's not so much in the mood for arguing, setting his coffee on the table and Shizuo invites him to make himself comfortable, offering up his hot chocolate—just for now. Izaya he wants, but he still wants his hot chocolate to get through the morning. "Shizu-chan shouldn't be getting hurt in the first place. Then I wouldn't have to go through your bathroom cabinets and find out how many rolls of gauze you have." There's a clipped insult of _beast_ but it's an endearing term of annoyance, unspoken as Izaya chooses to lie back and carefully nestle himself into Shizuo's grasp and careful of the places he's bandaged more than once.

It still kind of hurts—he can't hold back the sharp inhale when Izaya's arm brushes against a bruised shoulder—Izaya's lips are on his jaw, fluttering to his cheek while he gets comfortable. Shizuo finds himself in his boyfriend's grasp, his hand coming up and over to slip over Shizuo's. Moments like this are some of the best, comfortable enough to forget the frown Izaya wears whenever Shizuo's pretending he doesn't notice. It's not like he tries to make Izaya anxious like he does, coming home in bruises and torn clothing and kisses that taste sweet and sting with antiseptic over his split lip.

This is home, right in Izaya's grasp and how the hell two years have come and they're not dead yet is beyond him. He doesn't know about the idiots who pulled a cheap one on him, doesn't really care. When Izaya's going through this much selflessness (really, it's a killer with him because he can only do so much) he must be starting the day off on the right side of the bed and still aching no matter how much Izaya kisses him. But he doesn't mind the slow and sweet brush of lips over his, bitter and sweet and just how mornings typically are around here.

He finds himself tucked under Izaya's chin shortly after, Izaya's insistence that if he ruins one single bandage and the sofa then he'll cut him to shreds. Which sounds like a direct contradiction to the hand in Shizuo's, loose enough to keep bloodied knuckles from bending too much and the careful patchwork which currently has Shizuo not at Shinra's enduring a barrage of questions and love declarations to his best friend.

It's just too easy to close his eyes and fall asleep. The only thing that keeps coming as a shock is when the cool metal of Izaya's ring slips over and under his fingers, careful of bandages and never minding the fact Izaya's hand is much smaller than his. Even if his boyfriend is smaller than him, he's still a perfect fit. But the flea isn't helping his case when he coyly moves time to time to sip from his coffee, reminding Shizuo that he neglected his hot chocolate for this.

(It's really not that bad.)

"Ne, Shizu-chan, will you ever learn?" Izaya presses his lips to the top of his head, reminding Shizuo his eyes are still very much closed and he's oh so tempted to fall asleep. With a voice like help, he won't need any help. "You're supposed to not get hurt, monster blood doesn't look so good on the pavement."

"Neither does yours." This gets a laugh from Izaya, reassuring that he's still resilient enough to bounce back no matter what hits him. Hypocrite.

"Well, it's a good thing you have someone like me to come back to, Shizu-chan," Izaya reclines against the cushion, fingers still in his boyfriend's and it's the nostalgic feeling of _home_ in a tiny apartment on a couch that clearly doesn't look like it belongs. They've never really been all that normal either, so it's fair to have the little things like this. "Otherwise, you'd be a sorry mess on the streets of Ikebukuro..."

No, it's not his apartment that makes it home. His apartment is just the place where he comes home to and Izaya usually follows or is there to greet him, just because he's persistent and adorable when he wrinkles his nose after kissing Shizuo like it's something so atrocious. The same look that turns into a smile when Izaya rambles on and on about his day and Shizuo gives him a pointed look, pretending to be deadly serious, but then laughs when Izaya suddenly stops himself in the middle of a sentence because he's been staring at _him_ for so long it should be normal.

This should be normal. Two years have gone by so quickly it's hard to remember the previous decade of attempted murder. Something they'll have to consider when they're old and Izaya realizes that he can't bend in every single way he can now. For now, Shizuo doesn't mind when he shows off his flexibility or parades around trolling the world into believing he's a schoolgirl. It only gets annoying when some idiot falls for it.

Izaya's always worn the rings on his index fingers. For some reason, Shizuo has never really known why except thinking that Izaya's just weird like that and whatever, it's only a problem if he keeps them on when they're trying to sleep. Or engaging in other activities that do not welcome cold metal on hot skin. Even if they're shiny things that are probably expensive metal and plain, they don't have any purpose being on his fingers when—wait a minute.

"Oi," his heart kicks up in a surge of adrenaline and is he really going to be doing this— _yes_. "Give me your hand." There's a sort of numb feeling to it, tingling in his head and though his body aches and pains he still catches Izaya's right hand, fingers moving straight to the solid metal band on his pointer finger. Izaya's probably watching him curiously, knowing Shizuo's only interest in the rings he wears are from annoyance or just noticing when he doesn't wear them.

"What are you doing now, Shizu-chan?" He honestly doesn't believe his boyfriend is going to try to make a fashion statement. (Disregarding it's too late for that...)

But then Shizuo's holding his fingers of his left hand, brushing past one ring and his fingers play with the ring from his right hand, silently contemplating. It doesn't take long before he speaks up, a little hesitant. "It's been two years," he says, Izaya finding himself nodding to the statement and so it has, because he knows this from keeping count too. And surprisingly, the effort needed isn't all that much.

Waking up in the arms of a monster— _his_ monster, it's hard to imagine it's only been two years of that.

"And I love you," Shizuo starts up again, feeling the lightheaded rush of adrenaline sinking into his stomach and swallowing because this is kind of awkward, but not because they've said the three little words to each other enough times before. "Have for longer than just dating you."

Izaya hums an affirmative, curious and quiet to see where this is going besides their usual talk of these things. He remembers something in the news, wondering if Shizu-chan saw it too for today. Probably not, going by how often the remote is in danger of being embedded in the screen.

"Izaya," Shizuo says, not as quiet but like the way he says Izaya's name like it's fun to roll off the tongue and even better to send that buzzing rush of something warm down Izaya's throat whenever he uses _that_ tone of voice.

Nothing prepares him for the fingers holding his splayed out, nudging his ring down his ring finger and the sudden question comes to mind of what is Shizuo _doing_ and he almost wants to say maybe it's the painkillers. But he knows it's not.

"Marry me." And now Izaya has a ring on his ring finger, feeling awfully cliché and of course Shizu-chan is such a sap but he hasn't honestly been expecting this, so if his throat is dry for a little bit then it's normal for the moments of silence that come after something like _this._

"Were you watching the news for America, Shizu-chan? They just approved of this sort of thing..." Izaya trails off, noticing that Shizuo is shifting in his arms and pulling himself up even if it hurts and he's still stupid sometimes, but too determined to be told not to. As soon as his boyfriend sits above him and hides the traces of pain from his face Izaya catches his eyes, hand clasped in Shizuo's and a little dazed when it comes to what to say.

"Good for them," Shizuo says and he doesn't sound all that interested, not when he's looking at Izaya with an expression that's hard to name and if his eyes burn then it's simply because he hasn't had enough coffee to get through a marriage proposal this early in the morning. Really, Shizu-chan should take better note of these things.

Shizuo stays silent, watching him like he needs to have an answer and it's ridiculous—Izaya finishes the question for him, pulling him down for a kiss and when his boyfriend relaxes on top of him he feels the adrenaline rushing in his head and pounding in his ears. Because now there's a ring on his finger and he feels so old when Shizu-chan does silly things like this but the sentiment doesn't go unnoticed, not if it's just for him.

And this kiss is slow and sweet, tasting like coffee and hot chocolate and everything he's ever needed. He'll probably berate himself for sounding this stupid, but later.

"I love you," Shizuo says and Izaya's arm comes up around him, holding him down while he rests on Izaya's chest. He probably feels the quickened pulse of blood through Izaya's veins, hard to keep the excitement down when he never expects these sorts of things. He thought that Shizuo had already kissed the stupid out of him before, but maybe he's forgotten the parts that feel awkward and a little nervous or just plain ridiculous when this is his boyfriend he's talking to.

"Love you too," it's hard to believe he's _engaged_ and it'll probably sink in later. For now, it's not a bad thing that it doesn't. "Silly Shizu-chan, where do you get these kinds of ideas, ne?" He still tugs off the ring on his left index finger, making it only fair that Shizuo gets to suffer the embarrassment when he suddenly wears a ring and now they match like this.

"You." And Izaya feels like forever when he agrees.

* * *

 _We did it, United States. We finally have marriage equality for all. Congratulations to all LGBTQIA members out there on the victory of such a wonderful thing. These two will be celebrating appropriately, after I stop smiling like an idiot._

 _Thank you for reading._


End file.
